


oh lay my sweet lass down in the grass

by vivilove



Series: Wildling Jon & His Princess [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Jon stole Sansa, Marriage Proposal, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Wildling!Jon Snow, and fell in love with her, but between the sheets, there's not a lot of privacy for the free folk my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Here, it will be far more straight-forward, like the other couple they heard earlier. The fact that it is Jon who will be loving her will be enough romance for her, she decides.Jon’s hand breaks free from hers as he suddenly darts a few feet away, stoops here and there and then returns.“Here,” he murmurs, pressing something into her hands. “They’re nothing much but…they’re for you.”Under the moonlight, she sees and thinks her heart may expand beyond the confines of her chest.Romance lives even here beyond the Wall. Not in grand gestures but in small and quiet ones that come from the heart. If it were day, she would sing.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Wildling Jon & His Princess [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520897
Comments: 55
Kudos: 144





	oh lay my sweet lass down in the grass

**Author's Note:**

> Title is one of the dozens of mentioned 'songs' in ASOIAF but sadly we have no lyrics.

* * *

Sansa has always had a romantic heart. Since she was a little girl enraptured by tales of knightly deeds and ladies fair or begging her father to make a poor old singer stay for another moon back in Winterfell, her heart has yearned for romance.

Once she had thought that in marrying Prince Joffrey, by becoming his princess, a joyful love song of her own would be born. But he was no hero despite his golden appearance. He is a monster, the sort who devours the romantic hearts of fair maidens to break his sullen fast.

Her old hopes and dreams had seemed very foolish to her in retrospect and she’d grown leery of the songs after that.

Until Jon, that is.

He is not what her younger self would’ve wanted, she knows. But he is everything she wants now. She loves him with all of her young heart, a heart which beats freely without duty or fear to bind it. A heart which beats for him because she wants it to…ever since he captured it along with her person some while ago.

Jon knows little of grand romance and gestures though. That is alright. She does not need them to be happy.

Of course, she is nervous. So much is made of this, the first time, of a lady giving her maidenly gift to her lord husband. Or her wildling one in this case.

Bedding ceremonies are different south of the Wall than here, she realizes. She wonders if Jon knows anything about that.

She can remember hearing about marriage feasts and the way her cheeks would grow warm when jolly older girls would sing ‘The Queen Took Off Her Sandal…’ to explain a little of the mysteries of the bedding. It was no more informative than her septa’s words but at least those girls had made it sound like something enjoyable rather than something to be endured.

Here, it will be far more straight-forward, like the other couple they heard earlier. The fact that it is Jon who will be loving her will be enough romance for her, she decides.

Jon’s hand breaks free from hers as he suddenly darts a few feet away, stoops here and there and then returns.

“Here,” he murmurs, pressing something into her hands. “They’re nothing much but…they’re for you.”

Under the moonlight, she sees and thinks her heart may expand beyond the confines of her chest.

Romance lives even here beyond the Wall. Not in grand gestures but in small and quiet ones that come from the heart. If it were day, she would sing.

It is no glorious bouquet of roses. It is naught but thistle and heather, a hearty though ragged little clump plucked from this wild and snowy landscape.

Jon’s watching her with anxious eyes but, when she lifts them to her chin and declares them perfect, he grins and takes her free hand again.

Hand in hand, giggling like children though quietly. Her cheeks warm when she thinks of being overheard by the others. And yet, it makes something else inside burn hotly, some wickedness she will not acknowledge tonight.

They cannot undress out here. Her boots will remain on unlike that queen without her sandal but it will not stop them. She is a novice and she does not think he’s much more learned but together they will dance under their furs beneath the stars like the Free Folk do.

A rustling of furs, his clumsy, fever-hot hands tugging at his skins and furs, helping her push her dress up past her hips. A pitiful, yearning groan from him when he palms one of her breasts through fabric. He whispers of his desire to lick and suckle at them.

She is shocked.

She is intrigued.

She should consider changing into skins and furs like the others wear. Her dress is just as filthy and those seem easier to remove.

Side by side, beneath their furs, touches and caresses. His skin must be on fire. They might’ve made love in the snow after all. He would’ve melted it, she thinks whimsically.

She lets her hands explore. There’s a light sprinkling of hair upon his chest. His back is smooth except for some ridges which instinct tells her are scars. His belly quivers when she touches it.

There is more hair lower, hair like a path that leads… _somewhere_. Does she dare follow it?

“Fuck,” he hisses, tearing away from where he’d been nuzzling at her ear.

She had dared to follow that path. She gives an experimental stroke. “Good?”

He nods, grimacing and laughing both.

Vexed by his laughter and someone’s answering huff nearby, she lets go. But her lips twitch and laughter of her own is bubbling up when he whimpers in response.

She grips his hip next and reaches around, liking the feel of his round, firm bottom. She squeezes it and pictures nipping at it with her teeth. She has become like an animal this night. A Wildling woman indeed.

He’s kissing her throat, the bit of her chest he can reach. His beard is prickling her delicate skin but it is not displeasing. It tickles. She likes it.

She threads her fingers through his hair as he rolls on top of her. Her tummy knots up in anticipation as she feels his hard length brush her inner thigh.

A quiet tearing sound when he grows impatient with her smallclothes followed by a gruff apology. One hand holds her jaw. “Look at me, princess.”

She does. In the firelight, blue eyes gaze up at his dark ones. She can see the intensity, of how his mind wishes to say something whilst his body is dying to proceed.

One tender, sweeping pass of a thumb across her cheek, drifting over her eyelashes before settling at her lips.

“I love you, Sansa. Be my wife.”

“I’ll be your wife. You’ll be my husband.”

“Aye.” A brief hesitancy that threatens melancholy before he adds, “Always,” and surges forward for another kiss.

She gasps as his hand touches her down there.

“Kissed by fire,” he mumbles, his fingers combing through her thatch of hair, gently probing deeper. “Don’t be afraid, my brave girl.”

“I won’t be afraid. Not when I’m with you.”

And it’s true. She’s not. So long as it is him, she trusts him and knows he will make this as good for her as he can.

“Spread them a little…”

He gives a nudge and she understands. She’d been pressing her legs together tightly with her nerves.

She opens for him and he settles between her legs, fumbling a bit.

Whispered questions. “Is this alright? Will you tell me if it hurts?”

The head of him at her center. He pushes forward and she clutches his shoulders tightly. It hurts some…but then it doesn’t. They all speak of maidenheads being broken but she doesn’t feel broken at all. It’s a little invasive feeling is all. She feels very full but is sure she will not mind it for long.

His lips trail along her cheek. He begs permission to move.

“Yes.”

A thrust and…oh.

“Sansa?”

She nods feebly. It is an odd feeling but like his beard upon her tender skin, not displeasing.

“More, please.”

Kisses which swallow his moan in reply. Another thrust and…oh, that’s…oh!

The sounds of their loving must fill the night air as readily as the snap and pop of the fire. Someone, maybe several someones, are listening but she cannot focus on that.

Up and up, they climb. That dizzying precipice she’d first glimpsed yesterday morning looms ahead. She wants to reach it. There’s some unbearably sweet relief awaiting her there.

She struggles to match his pace, to meet his movements. Flesh on flesh, the wet sounds of their kisses and their bodies intertwined. His guttural grunts and panting breaths tell her he’s closer to that promised height. She’s falling behind. It feels nice but she knows there’s more if only...

They are sweaty beneath their furs when it is done, when he has shuddered to a halt, his wide-open eyes and mouth and his own look of extreme relief nearly making her giggle aloud.

“I love you,” he huffs into her hair after he collapses.

“Yes, you do,” she sighs dreamily, brushing her hand through his hair some more.

“No fucking sleep at all due to all you fuckers busy fucking all fucking night!” a very ill-tempered man barks, drawing quiet laughter from others around them and from Jon.

Sansa had honestly forgotten the presence of the others briefly. She’d been so close to touching some wonder-filled land from a song and then been so wrapped up in watching Jon reach it. She wants to bury her face in Jon’s neck and pretend she isn’t here or they aren’t.

But it is no use. They are not alone which she’d known from the start tonight. _We could’ve been doing this for several nights already!_ a petulant part of her thinks when she recalls they have only had company since this morning.

Jon tells the man to ‘piss off’ and asks if she needs anything. With some lingering embarrassment, she whispers that she needs to make water.

He leads her away from the others and waits quietly.

“Was it alright? I hope it wasn’t…did you like it at least a little?” he asks shyly as they make their way back to the fire and their furs.

She thinks it through and answers honestly. “I did. I think I’ll like it even better next time.”

“Next time, I hope so. Soon, I’ll steal you away from the others for a night and find some place where we might be alone and I might show you other pleasures.”

“Other pleasures? Somewhere we might be alone?”

“Aye, a sweet smelling field of wild grass where I can lay you back naked and beautiful upon the furs and we may take our time. Or perhaps a cave like the one we visited on our journey north.”

“The one with the hot spring?”

“Aye.”

All of that sounds very promising. She feels a fresh blossoming shiver of desire at the thought.

When dawn arrives and the camp is truly waking, the young lovers are not quite ready to rise and douse their campfire yet either.

Jon’s hand had dipped between her legs just before sunrise and he’d growled that she was wet in a manner that had made her throb and ache in desperation. Now, they are too busy quite shamelessly writhing beneath their furs upon the hard-packed ground. Like animals, like wolves.

What has come over her? What sort of princess does this?

_His princess, his woman, his wildling wife._

She’s heedless of their nearby audience, banishing them from her conscious mind whilst she chases that elusive precipice again as Jon’s hips snap in time and he encourages her with bawdy words.

And, this time she finds it with a wanton cry like a song.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Hey guys! It's been a wild month and we're not even half done with it but I have been writing and wanted to share something today because I love writing this little series and first times for them. I'll be posting some WIP updates and other new stuff before too long. Hope you all are well!
> 
> I suppose I could tie up this series here without wading into the bigger picture of what happens next. We'll see if I get inspired to keep going or not.


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